We figured we would eventually have to deal with Lily getting a bee-sting, but we hardly thought it would be this early, and we definitely didn't think it would happen in Walmart. When it happened, Lily screamed out, but then she was fine. Liz and I were a nervous wreck, worried about an allergic reaction and imagining ourselves huddled over her body screaming at Walmart employees and customers in a scene reminiscent of a third installment of "Terms of Endearment." After it happened, we just wanted to get out of there, but we wanted to tell someone what had happened, so we told the cashier. Her response, nonplussed, was, "Well, it doesn't get any better up here, I've got chicken pox." Then, the guy beside us turned to show off his swollen eyes and face from his poison ivy reaction. It was like being in a Typhoid Mary museum. We couldn't get out of there fast enough. We left Walmart and went to Walgreens, to ask the pharmacist if there's anything we should do. During this time, I should mention that Lily is in the back seat, giggling away, with a little angry red mark and a splotchy face, intermittently licking the side of her car seat. The pharmacist told us to give her a little Benadryl for children and put her to bed. She was fine of course, but we were a basket case. I would rather have just been stung myself. At least that way, Liz would have had some experience in dealing with my dramatic theatrical complaining.
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